Laughter, In Stereo
by LibraMoon
Summary: She's a nation that is not afraid to say what she thought. Yet, Australia noticed that she was acting nervous and blushing around him. Was America sick? Featuring AustraliaxFem!America. Per request. One shot series. Rated M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**_This Author does not lay claim to characters or ideas contained herein. This is not for profit or other material benefit. Rated M._**

 ** _Australians reading this story, forgive the American that doesn't know a f***ing thing about the slang terms. :) I have met some Australians and the general consensus is that you are a laid back lot, who can take a joke._**

 ** _My favorite kind of people!_**

 ** _Also, is that thing about calling women 'A Shelia' real? Or is that just something they do in movies?_**

 ** _I own nothing, please enjoy._**

 ** _OoOoOo_**

The brunette nation paused and glanced behind him for the third time this meeting. His green eyes glanced and caught the gaze of a well known female nation.

Hm.

He turned back toward the front, watching France as he presented something to do with a proposal about lowering levies and taxes on imports for those willing to participate in a new program that was an extension of good will. For those that wished to participate.

Yes, Australia cared about that. He really did, who would not? It did effect his nation after all, as most things in the world did. However, that did not explain what was going on today. And, had actually been going on for a while now.

He furrowed his brows as he thought over what it was that would cause the change in her demeanor. Had he offended her somehow? It wasn't impossible to do with America, in fact you could do it rather easily if you knew what buttons to push.

But, no, the last time he and America had gone out together for a drink, she'd been really happy the whole night. The exuberant nation had chatted with him all night, and she'd been slightly flushed the whole time. American beer was not as strong as other alcoholic beverages that were being served at the bar. So, he had concluded she was truly a light weight.

Australia glanced over his shoulder, again, and America smiled at him brightly.

Huh.

So she wasn't pissed then. That was good. That only left him wondering as to why she kept looking at him.

Through the meeting, she went from her usual coloring to a fine cherry red when he gave her a quick smile and waved at her after the fifth incident. America tapped her pencil on the desk repeatedly, and she must have done something to catch England's Attention, because he flowered at her heavily. Then the island nation glanced between Australia and America.

Similar green eyes narrowed at him with a threatening look, and England said something to America. The two started whispering back and forth for a minute or two. Then England snatched her pencil from her hand, and snapped it in two.

He pointed at Australia and back at her.

America blushed after that.

Must have been something funny. Then again, England could be a stick in the mud upon occasion. Australia shrugged it off. Until the very end of the meeting.

When America loitered around his end of the meeting room, and her hand clutched her briefcase until it was blanched because she was holding it so tightly. Her gaze wandered to his, and she smiled at him quite a bit.

Australia grinned in amusement. He knew she was waiting for him. She brushed off another country politely after a bit of small talk. She had no other business, but she did not leave. Finally, she wandered over toward him, glancing around with a nonchalant expression on her face.

"Hey," she said neutrally.

"Hello America," Australia drawled out with his green eyes taking in her appearance. She tilted her head and her cheeks stained red a bit.

What was going on with her? Was she not feeling well?

"So...uh... hey, I was thinking, that uh... m-maybe you'd like to go to the Symphony, sometime." She paused and looked a little awkward, as she cleared her throat. "You know, like uh, next week?"

Australia's green eyes widened. Was she nervous? He had never really had a problem with America, so she shouldn't be. They'd gone out drinking just last month.

"The Symphony?"

Her blue eyes widened behind Texas, as she swallowed.

"Y-yeah. You know. The Sydney Symphony Orchestra?"

"My Orchestra?" He asked, as he raised a brow. He didn't see why she wanted to go to his Symphony. As far as Australia knew, she wasn't even on official business in his country next week. He'd have to check that.

She was slowly turning a fiery shade of crimson.

"Uh. Yeah. I just thought, you know, its world famous and all. Maybe we could go together next week?"

He looked thoughtful.

"Well, I suppose so. I mean, I'd have to check my schedule."

"Oh. " She replied, glancing over his shoulder and then down. "I mean, if you're busy... I... I understand."

He hadn't said that, he just needed to check his schedule.

"What time is it?"

"At 6:30, you know. Um. P.M."

The Star-Spangled nation shifted and glanced at him. Her bright blue eyes looked at him directly.

"I'd really like it if you would come."

He smiled congenially, and nodded.

"I-" Australia began.

"But," she interrupted, with her suitcase trembling. "I mean, you don't _have_ to come. If you don't want to. I'd just like you there. But... I'm no-not trying to pressure you or anything. "

He watched her in confusion.

"But, I got these tickets," America explained rapidly, nearly rushing all the words together, "and I thought maybe we could go. You know, I'm sure you've been dozens of times but I-"

Australia blinked at her as America drew in a deep breath. He was surprised she only needed it now. He'd have needed one over a minute ago. His green eyes noticed that her face was slowly growing redder. Was... was America blushing?

What the bloody hell?

Was she sick?

He took a slight step back, and her blue eyes widened behind Texas.

"I mean... if you don't want to go, it's fine." America repeated, sounding less enthusiastic than before.

He was about to answer, to say he'd go with her. She'd bought the tickets after all, and it was in his country. Not a huge amount of traveling was involved for him.

"You know what?" The female nation said abruptly, "this was a silly idea. I'm sure you're busy. I clearly shouldn't assume you'd want to... never mind. I-I'll see ya around. Okay?"

Her face was bright red, and she avoided looking at him. She took a few steps back, nodding her head for a moment. Australia reached for her, trying to see what the matter was, but America was too quick and was half-way across the room.

"Some other time? Yeah, cool. See ya dude."

The 'down under' nation could only stare in disbelief. What was that about? He hadn't even gotten the chance to reply.

"Am-" he started, but she had already cleared the doorway. "-er...ica."

He blinked, and gave a quiet laugh. What was with her? Though, internally he was concerned. She was not acting like herself. America usually was happy to go with the flow, roll witht he punches, and have a grand time.

This was... different.

The shuffling of papers drew his attention toward New Zealand, who sat innocently at his spot. Australia wandered over toward him. Maybe he should ask if anyone else had noticed it.

"Is it just me, or has America been acting... strange?" Australia questioned of New Zealand who was sitting in his chair, still organizing the notes of the meeting.

"What do you mean?" The smaller nation questioned, without looking up.

Australia scratched his head, and grinned a little, slightly amused that he was the only one that seemed to watch the Star-Spangled nation enough to see the glaring change in behavior. Then again, he was more observant than the average nation. His green eyes wandered to the door where America had all but speed-walked through. She must have needed the thunderbox.

He walked like that when he needed one too.

"Well," he said after a moment, still confused as to why she had been rambling so much, "she seems a little skittish lately."

That caused New Zealand to look up, a bit of concern flashed across his kind eyes.

"What?"

The taller nation cleared his throat, and placed a hand to his chin in concentration.

"She seems flustered about something. Always glancing down and back up. She keeps staring at me during the meetings, but lately she has been more discreet. Then America invites me to go to the next event of the Sydney Symphony Orchestra, but before I can get a bleedin' word in edgewise, she decides I don't want to go and runs out the door."

Australia paused as a thought occurred to him.

"You don't think, that she thinks, that I'm plotting something do you? Nah. Maybe she's sick."

The smaller nation, his neighbor for as long as Australia could remember, blinked and shook his head. His face showed his deep exasperation.

"You're a dammed idiot." New Zealand said dryly.

"Shut it, you bloody Kiwi!" Australia joked good-naturedly, though internally he was curious as to why New Zealand was calling him names.

The taller nation turned toward New Zealand, a bit more, with a questioning look.

"What'cha mean by that?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

Australia grinned brightly.

"If it was, I wouldn't be asking, now would I?"

New Zealand sighed heavily, as he folded his hands over the papers. He leveled a chastising gaze at Australia.

"I'm going to say this slowly, so it has time to sink in. America doesn't distrust you, nor is she sick. She. Fancies. You."

The larger nation stilled, an expression of disbelief and a bit of surprise were intermixed in the way his mouth dropped open.

"What?"

New Zealand stared at him.

"Which part didn't you get? Because it is a rather simple concept."

"America's infatuated with me? Nah! You're being full of shit." Australia chuckled. He reached over to shove New Zealand in the shoulder with a brotherly sort of affection.

The smaller nation stood, and gathered the papers in his hands.

"No, I'm not." He replied confidently. "It's pretty obvious."

That was his parting gift to a confused Australia, who blinked and flicked his gaze upward to think about what New Zealand said. No. That couldn't be.

No.

Just because she was blushing...

And, stuttering...

And...

She'd asked him out on a fuckin' date. Hadn't she? His green eyes widened. Holy shit! America wanted to go out!

"Oi!" Australia called loudly as he watched a pair of nations pass by the door. His shout caught their attention and they looked at him.

"Either of you seen America?"

Malta furrowed his brow in confusion- glancing at Cyprus, who shrugged-, but pointed behind him, which meant America was somewhere near the coffee machine. Excellent. Australia nodded his head.

"Thanks." He said quickly before hurrying out of the room. He nearly knocked Malta over, but gave a hurried apology as he continued down the hall. Calling for America.

Cyprus looked at New Zealand .

"What was that about?"

The gentle nation smirked with amusement, he strode forward and clapped Cyprus on the back.

"Nothing," he replied with a knowing smile. "Nothing that concerns anyone but them."

As the trio walked out, New Zealand glanced behind, he caught a glimpse. Enough to see down the hall and into the area where they kept drinks and snacks. The glimpse was enough to see a very flustered looking America with a grinning Australia.

Yes. They would be alright.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Author owns nothing. Gets nothing for this, except some praise :D_**

 ** _Be advised, I claim no right to ideas/characters/ ect contained herein. I do not claim responsibility for Hetalia, ect. Swear words for Australians brought to you by some lovely natives in a chat room._**

 ** _I hope I used them correctly._**

 ** _I own nothing. You know that already. Rated M._**

OoOoOo

Australia nearly tumbled to the ground when he was suddenly hit from behind.

Something strong snaked around his neck and torso. For a moment he fought panic as he whirled around trying desperately to get if off of him.

"Yee-haw!" A very well known voice called out happily.

The male nation pause in his frantic attempt to get the 'thing' off of him. He knew that voice. His worry was quickly replaced with ire and confusion.

"Fuck me dead, what the hell you stupid Bogan?!"

America was firmly attached to his back, and refusing to be shook loose. She laughed merrily with a bit of mischief in her eyes as she craned around to look at him.

"Hey dude!" She greeted earnestly. "What's a 'Bogan'?"

He frowned at her.

"Right. You could ask that, but here is a better question. What the hell are you doing?"

She blinked at him.

"...Riding you?"

"Yeah. I got that," Australia muttered as he continued to bare the strangeness of America. He like the woman, he did. But sometimes, she confused the absolute piss out of him.

"Oh, good." She agreed with a side smile.

He gave her a withering stare.

"Why?"

America tilted her head with a serious expression. Texas flashed and her blue eyes looked nearly arctic with the frost they produced.

"Start running."

He felt a fissure of fear race through his system. What the hell was this? Some sort of hostile takeover? If she thought he was just going to accept-

"Come on dude," she whined suddenly, breaking the tension, "You've gotta run if we are going to beat England and Japan."

"What?" The male nation asked, even more confused than before. His brow rose and he blinked just to be certain he wasn't drunk somewhere at a pub imagining all this.

She hugged him slightly tighter around the shoulders.

"Dude! Come on! Start running."

"I'm not going to run-"

"But then they win!"

"How on Earth does you jumping on my back-?"

"It's a race!" America exclaimed with excitement. Then she started to shake on his back, nearly vibrating him down the hall. "Come on! Come on! I wanna win. Please Australia!"

The 'Down Under' nation fought an internal battle. On the one hand, this was utterly horrifying and humiliating. On the other hand... Australia did enjoy competing and the chance at beating England -though he was fiercely loyal to the nation- was highly tempting.

Dare he say, almost too tempting?

His green eyes narrowed thoughtfully and he ignored the slight ache in his back as he rubbed his chin.

"England, you say?"

America's blue eyes seemed to twinkle behind Texas.

"Indeed, I did."

"Before I agree or not," Australia said carefully. "Why did you hop on me like a daft Kangaroo?"

Instead of being insulted, the North American nation laughed even more, burying her face in his shoulder as her legs tightened around his waist -trying to keep a hold of him-.

"Bkwjaru sdkfjsdggu hskj vu."

He stared at the wall ahead of him blankly.

"I'm sorry, one more time. This time, not into my anatomy." He joked, growing less annoyed and more amused.

"I said," America replied, a touch too loudly -as if she were making a point-, "Because no one compares to you."

He puffed out his chest with a bit of stroked ego and pride. His face bloomed into a charming smile.

"Now, now. No need to sound so desperate." He teased lightly.

America responded by smacking his shoulder lightly with one of her crossed hands.

"Are you in or out?" She asked with a bit of mirth. "Because you suck as a horse dude."

Australia's green gaze glimmered with open playfulness.

"I have so many jokes for that sentence."

"Don't make me get a riding crop," she threatened without any real heat to the words.

"Believe me," Australia drawled as his accent deepened. "It would not be my first time hearing that."

She gave him a look as her grabbed a hold of her legs, helping support her and balance himself.

"Hang on for the ride of your life...'Darlin'" He mimicked in a terrible southern accent.

America would have corrected him, or at least scolded him lightly, but she had no time to do more than clutch to him as he took off down the hall.

"Take a right!" She urged, and held tightly. "We have to get to the end of the courtyard before them."

"Who's running?" He questioned, only slightly breathily.

"England!"

"England's carrying Japan?"

"Yeah, it's weird right?"

"Right!"

America waved to the nations that they passed. Some of them stared at them, slack jawed. Germany tried to race after them, shouting at Australia to stop. They summarily ignored him, with very little effort. Both she and Australia were grinning like a pair of fools. Occasionally, she made car noises, which made no sense since she'd been calling him a horse. However, it made him laugh as he raced along.

"Take a left, through the kitchen!"

"That'll take longer," her started to argue.

"Just trust me!" America urged, as Australia turned to the left. They burst through the doors and America whooped as they tore through the confided space, toward the back door. Which America extended a leg to kick open.

It... had been locked.

Huh. That was... not... not good. Only because as it went flying off America laughed nearly maniacally.

"Ha ha ha. I'll pay for it later." She replied.

"Germany is going to have my ass." Australia gasped, trying to breathe and not stop to laugh.

"Only if he can catch me."

"Catch you? I'm the one running."

"Semantics!"

"That doesn't mean-"

"Look!" She shouted excitedly as his green eyes caught sight of what she was pointing to.

Japan was clinging to England like a someone about to be drowned if they let go.

"Go! Go! Go!" America chanted as leaned in closer to Australia for less drag resistance.

Oh, he was not going down now. Australia grit his teeth and adjusted his grip on America.

"America-san!" Japan called, somehow both stoic and terrified. "This was not a good idea!"

"Dude! I'm having a blast. How about you?" She questioned, softer in tone, when she turned her attention toward Australia.

"Still the one running."

"And, I am perfectly happy with this arrangement." She confided earnestly.

England looked like a nation possessed. Which, it occurred to Australia, given the fact it was England, might not be too far out of the realm of possibility. His large eyebrows were nearly in a straight line as he focused on the 'finish line'.

No bloody way.

Australia was not having any of that. He dug down deeply into his resolve and burst forth. Soon, he and England were neck and neck. Each lugging someone on their backs. England swerved slightly, and Japan moved to compensate.

"You can do it!" America cheered at Australia, as his feet seemed to eat up the ground beneath him.

Not long after, they could all see the edge of the courtyard. England sneered with determination. Australia narrowed his gaze intently. He was not going to lose. He was Australian.

With a mighty leap, he crossed more distance, and England gawked at them as America made a cowgirl pose, as if she was barrel racing. Australia sailed across the edge of the courtyard, and landed.

Unfortunately, he lost his balance, and they both tumbled down. He landed on America, as they laid sprawled on the pavement.

"Australia?" America asked, with a bit of pain in her voice.

"Yeah?"

"You were fucking awesome!"

He laughed at that, moving to help her up, as he stood himself.

"You cheated, you damn Yank!" England huffed as he came to a stop.

America's eyes widened.

"How the hell did I cheat?"

"You made Australia jump!"

"I did not! He's perfectly capable of making his own choices." She reminded England, who glowered at her as he let Japan down.

"Congratulations, America-San." The smaller nation replied respectfully, and with good sportsmanship.

"Thanks! But it's really Australia that did all the work."

Said nation took a moment to bask in his glory.

A nearly fiendish grin stole over America's features as she glanced between him and England.

"Way to go old man."

"I am not old!" England baulked.

"Yeah, okay whatever."

"I don't have time for your childishness."

"Says the man that just let Japan piggy back on him because he couldn't resist making a bet with me."

"Quiet!"

America did a little jump on her feet, nearly vibrating with excitement. Her blue eyes landed on Japan.

"When I say 'Aus' you say 'Tralia'!"

"America-san, I do not-" Japan hedged with a nervous glance at his racing partner.

The Star-spangled nation paid it no mind.

"AUS!"

"Tralia..." Japan replied quietly, at a loss for words over America happy dancing.

"AUS!"

"Tralia."

"America, you shut up!" England snapped out angrily.

That caused the female nation so smile brightly. She whipped out her phone and dialed a number, putting it on speaker.

Someone picked up.

"AUS!"

"TRALIA!"

England stared at her blankly.

"Did you really just put the White house staff up to-":

"AUS!" She cried again.

"TRALIA!"

Then she closed the phone and slung an arm around Australia's neck while giggling.

"Relax Iggy, I only asked the interns to do it. They were thrilled."

"I bet," The Island nation commented sourly.

Australia paused, taking in the scene. His cheeks were red with embarrassment and exertion. It was strange to think... that they would ever have been here like this. Once upon a time, not so very long ago at all, Japan had been an enemy.

Now, they all joked and teased like dear friends.

But, Australia could still recall everything.

 _No one was coming. England was devoted to protecting English shores. His Prime minister boldly stated it. Crushing the hope Australia had for support. Who had believed that his first loyalty was to England._

 _Japan was readying to attack Australia, who was not as bulked up on his defenses. The second world war had dawned, and now, after sending men and aid..._

 _No one was coming to help Australia's citizens._

 _John Curtain, the Prime minister of the time, was also hurt by the lack of reciprocity, and reached out for another nation to help. One that was not even in the war yet._

 _America._

 _The sunny blonde nation. Australia did not expect anything. Not really. He was torn inside trying to think about how to save the most people possible. To protect the land that was part of him to its very core._

 _He sat in the war room with his Prime minister, pouring over the latest reports and damming numbers, when the door burst open. His green eyes widened as the female nation walked in the room._

 _A strained smile on her lips and concern in her blue eyes, as Nantucket swayed softly._

 _"Dude," she said with a gentle familiarity to Australia. "You called for some help?"_

 _He swallowed a lump of emotion in his throat._

 _"America?"_

 _She nodded and grinned at him nearly impishly._

 _"At your service."_

 _"But, you are not-"_

 _She shrugged at that. "War is war. I'll be in it eventually. Officially. Not right now, but I... I want to aid you, if you'll let me."_

 _The male nation expression showed just how at a loss for words he was._

 _"Why?"_

 _"Cause dude, I love ya. We are in this together, aren't we? Stopping something horrible."_

 _He had assumed, at the time, it was like a brother. As she loved Canada. As Australia loved England._

 _Yet, America, she had come to his defense. When no one else would. America... from a world away, had come for Australia. To aid him, when he had nothing to give her in return. Doing this could very well anger Japan._

 _And...and yet. There she was, standing tall as she out stretched her hand toward him._

 _By 1943 250,000 America troops were stationed in Melbourne to keep the threat of the Axis at bay. Yes there were conflicts between their two peoples as nearly 1 million America soldiers filtered through Australia in the four year period, but America did not leave him vulnerable._

 _In her nation, a song was sung, about the 'The Eagle, The Lion, and the Kangaroo.'_

It crashed over him with the subtly of a tsunami. What America was saying. What she had said. Even now, when she said it so casually, there was a seriousness in her words.

 _'I love ya'_. Her face flashed through his mind. That day in the 1940's.

His green eyes widened as he turned to watch the nation that continued to goad England. England who sputtered in rage.

 _'I love ya'_. Her face flashed again, this time, from just now.

It was the same. The look was exactly the same. Such simple words. Simple words with weighty words.

Australia finally understood.

Why she picked him. Why she came for him that day, when he was near the brink of being in serious danger. Why she had jumped on his back and insisted that they run across the grounds, like small children.

Oh. It all made such crazy _sense_ now.

"Fuck me dead," he exclaimed quietly to himself.

"What dude?" America asked curiously, looking at him. Her blue eyes twinkled behind Texas.

"I love you too," he blurted out, meaning the words but not thinking them through.

She laughed at that, seemingly amused as she took in his utterly shocked expression.

"Australia," America said fondly as she looked at him with deep affection. "I already knew that."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Rated M. This is a piece of literary fiction. The Author does not claim ownership pertaining to the ideas/characteristics/ect, of Hetalia or any subsidiary thereof.**_

 _ **Rated T.**_

 _ **Based off of a book I once read in accordance with the wheel of time series.**_

OoOoOo

Jett didn't remember how it happened.

One moment he was in his apartment, getting ready for holiday, and the next the bleeding wall came falling down. Not quite literally, but it melted into a void of swirling colors and bright lights. Had he been American, he might have suggested 'aliens'.

However, that was not what greeted him.

A specter walked forward from the void, and it seemed to solidify around her. The colors changing to happy hues and he could faintly hear the sounds of music in the distance. Gentle and soothing. A sense of comfort washed over him.

Then, he noticed the cloak and hood. The scythe that was perched on small shoulders.

"Fuck!" Jett hollered, his instinct rearing to life to flee like a mad man. Yet, he did not make it more than three steps, before he could not move his body.

"Jett Smith?" An eerily haunting, but urethral and melodic voice questioned.

His knees seized up on him, and he swallowed quickly.

"Hey," he responded out of reflex, then nearly kicked his own ass. Then again, when something like this happened, and they called you by name, maybe you were supposed to answer. Yes, he had and now 'she'd be apples'.

The figure stilled, an invisible wind seemed to whip at the cloak it wore, as the light changed around him. Another moment passed, and everything seemed to still as the world around him changed into what he could only call an explosion of starts and mist.

"Hey dude," Death said to him, casually, and in a woman's voice.

Jett nearly gave himself whiplash by how fast he craned his neck to stare at her.

"Death?" He questioned back, in a quiet voice,

Suddenly, the specter reached out, and instead of bones were fleshed hands. Thin fingers pulled back at the hood that covered her head. A head of blonde hair was soon unveiled. Beneath the golden locks was a sweet looking face, that was smiling at him politely.

"No," She said with eyes so blue they hurt to truly look at. "I'm Amelia. You can call me the 'Apprentice of Death'."

He stilled, eyes wide and horrified.

"Oh come on dude, I'm just an apprentice." she muttered as she kicked a stray wisp. "No need to wet your pants."

He gaped at her. Was... was Death... American? Because death sounded American!

"What?" She asked, tilting her head to contemplate him. "Just hang on a moment and my boss will be here."

"Boss?"

"Yeah, dude, the current and true Death." She said, almost in a bored tone.

Jett looked around, wondering if he'd gone Looney and no one had told him yet. His puzzled and horrified appearance must have clued her into the fact that he was not nearly as underwhelmed with this as she was.

"Do you have any idea why I am here?" Amelia asked, gently, as if coaxing him to speak.

"...I'm dead?"

"Well, I mean, that's actually not the reason I'm here." She walked closer to him, and inside the invisible bubble that seemed to hold him, Jett tried to squirm away.

That made her smile at him in amusement.

"Relax, I can't hurt you." She promised congenially, and for some strange reason he believed her. "Jett, you've-"

"Amelia, are you still prattling on?!" A voice so loud that is rivaled thunder shook the space between the lady Death and Jett.

Jett jumped, whirling around to see a looming figure, at least nine feet high, with a cloak blacker than midnight as the strange cosmic mist swirled around him stronger. It was more than a bit intimidating.

However, Amelia didn't seem all that concerned.

"Hey Arthur, we were just waiting for you."

Jett blinked, hovering between frightened and just plain confused. Yet, he could not tear his gaze away from the looming figure .

"Would you mind taking off the hood?" The lady death asked conversationally, "You're scarring Mr. Smith."

"I'm not scared," Jett denied.

Amelia shared a look with the true Death, which stated she clearly did not believe him. Jett would have huffed indignantly, but he was busy watching t 'Death' -of all things Death!- pull off its hood.

To reveal a man with eyebrows nearly as thick as his own, but a much larger scowl.

"By thunder Amelia," Death railed at her. "You've been doing this for a week and you still can't learn to just take the souls to-"

Jett choked mildly.

"A week?" He interrupted, against better judgment. "You've been at this a week."

She winked at him with a flirtatious smile.

"I'm a fast learner."

"Not fast enough," Death scolded.

"Arthur," Amelia admonished, "Don't be rude, you haven't even greeted Mr. Smith."

That made 'Arthur' pause and he flushed slightly, staring at Jett balefully.

"Oh yes, Hello. Pardon my lack of introduction."

"Hello," he responded in kind, "Cheers."

Death appraised him with green and hard eyes. Jett could feel the dislike radiating off the crotchety looking old codger. Though he did not really even look all that old.

"Yes, quite." Death murmured, as he gazed back at Amelia.

"I was just trying to explain to Mr. Smith what is going on," she stated casually.

"Must it take you so long?" Arthur rebutted with a sense of rudeness.

"Of course it must, darling."

At the endearment, Death flushed harder.

"Shameless flirt."

"Always!" She admitted, clearly unabashed. She moved closer, and Jett was grateful he would not have to turn around again. All of this was liable to make him 'go on the piss', if he wasn't dead.

"Jett," Amelia said kindly, with a bit of comfort in the way she looked at him. "As I was saying, I am the apprentice of Death. This is Arthur," she motioned to the frowning man. "He is the current and true Death. But, he has been at this task for a very long time. And, as happens in the mortal world, eventually you start not giving your all at a job where you've-"

"I beg your pardon," Arthur stiffly said with narrowed green eyes.

Amelia continued unperturbed.

"Things like _compassion, kindness, understanding_ , and _objectivity,_ they wane after a long period of time."

"Fie on you, I am objective," Death groused.

Her face took on an expression of disbelief.

"You keep yelling at every French person that dies!"

An amused and satisfied smirk worked its way onto Arthur's face.

"Yes, well, that is me being objective-"

"You made a sixty year old man cry!"

Death sniffed, but hsi amusement was no less. "He was overly sensitive."

Amelia glared at him. "We will talk about this later, as I was saying Jett," she continued, "there are three main roles that must continue as long as time does. There is God, the Devil, and Death. All of these positions must be filled. However, they have to be done correctly. Death must never judge, it is not the place of Death."

"Exactly so," Arthur nodded with a look of steel in his eyes.

Ameila's lips quirked upward. Jett still wanted to get as far away from the pair as was humanly possible.

"God must have mercy and forgiveness. The Devil must be willing to punish and harm when called for."

Jett swallowed, feeling rather numb.

"But you see, after thousands of years, God... grows bitter and quiet. From all the answered prayers that are spat upon and the cruelty of the world. The Devil finds mercy, because he or she grows tired of punishing everyone. The world is a mix of Grey Jett, and that makes it hard when your role is to only stay in the black and white of the rules. So, every few thousand years or so... everyone needs to be replaced."

He blinked at her.

Amelia grinned at him.

"For example, I was chosen by Arthur for constantly repeating the phrase 'Its not my place to judge' or 'That's not my place', throughout my life time."

His eyes widened and he glanced between the smiling woman and the frowning Death.

"You think that's strange?" She asked with a mischievous sparkle to her eyes.

Jet nodded, wholly unsure of what else to say. Half afraid that he would say something to upset the real Death, let alone the hot-headed apprentice.

"Ha! If you think that is strange, you should see how they elected the Devil's apprentice," Amelia confided in a whisper. "He got chosen for being the nicest guy and making deals all of the time."

Jett's mouth gaped a little.

"He was chosen for being bloody _nice?!_ "

Blue eyes blinked at him.

"Of course. The Devil goes after everyone, so he or she needs to be personable."

He paused, realizing with a large amount of grim dismay that made a lot of sense. It needed to be someone innocuous like the legends of old. One that people would willing make a deal with. Someone -and he hated to put it this way- trustworthy.

"Ah... I... don't-"

"Even know what to say, huh? Don't worry about it, Lars and I both went through this stage."

"Lars?" Jett questioned with a raised brow. His face scrunched up in confusion.

"Yeah dude, the apprentice of the Devil. He's Dutch."

Jett's face blanked carefully. He was busy recalling the time he had traveled to the Netherlands, and it had not been a friendly experience for him.

"You don't say."

It was Amelia's turn to look confused.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Amelia!" Arthur interrupted with his patience almost gone.

She turned, blonde hair shining brightly as she beamed at him.

"Sorry Artie!"

"My name is Arthur," the true Death specter reminded her through his clenched teeth.

"I know." Amelia replied with a slight huff of laughter. "But I like Artie better."

"Wench! I was a-"

"King," she interrupted lazily. "Yes, yes. I know. I know."

She gave him a mocking curtsey, gathering up the shroud of her station and bowing her head.

"After you, Sire."

Moss green eyes narrowed on her.

"I shall never remember why I believed you were a proper selection." He grumped unhappily. Amelia grinned at him playfully.

"Oh, sure. Whatever you say Dude."

"How many times must I repeat myself? I am not the son of 'Dude', though I am certain that he is a noble man-"

Amelia turned back to Jett.

"He's going to go on like this for a while. Let's take you to God, okay?"

Jett's eyes bugged from his head.

"I get to see God?" He asked in obvious awe and a bit of rightful fear.

The apprentice of Death turned toward him fully, as Arthur ranted in the background laying out the appropriate ways to speak to royalty. Also, the true way to pledge fealty to King and Country. He then detailed what it was like in his time, when men where honorable and bound to a code.

"Uh... yeah," Amelia responded, not understanding where she had lost him.

Jett licked his lips, and straightened his spiritual 'clothing'.

"Won't I have to go to judgment first?" He asked slowly.

"Judge-... oh." She beamed at him, as understanding washed over her features. "Jett, you aren't being judged for Heaven or Hell."

"I'm not?!" He nearly shouted the question in exhilaration. "So this is a near-death experience? I am supposed to change my life around? Help orphans in bloody Uganda or something?"

His heart quickened at the thought and he said a prayer of thanks.

Amelia placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch was not cold, as he had expected, but warm and filled with a strange sort of fondness. Her touch kindled a strange feeling in his chest, such as awakening a deeper knowledge.

"Oh no. Sweetie, no. You are dead. So totally dead. Like, the landlord already found you and is gonna auction off your stuff if your family doesn't come for it... dead."

Jett froze, staring at her in horror.

"Bu...but I don't understand. You said I wasn't going to be judged."

She nodded along.

"You're not. Jett..."

Amelia paused, glancing skyward and them behind her.

"Artie? You wanna tell him?"

"You're the Apprentice of _God_ you sodding git!" Arthur snapped, at his tirade being disrupted.

Jett might have commented, but everything about him froze and tumbled around. He cound not comprehend the oddness of their words. No, this had to be a dream. A bad case of food poisoning from eating take away. No. This couldn't be.

He? Him? He was to be the apprentice of God.

"I...I think..." Jett said with a sickly sort of weak grin of surprise. "That I am going to be sick."

Amelia clapped him on the shoulder again.

"Yeah, Lars and I went through that too."

OoOoOo

It's not quite all he had thought it would be. God was embodied by a cranky and swear-spouting Italian man named Romano. Though, despite his cynicism for the world, Jett noted that he listened to the prayers of the children and the fools the most closely. The fools he said, reminded him of his brother, who had gone to Heaven long ago.

Romano was ready now, to give up his mantle of being God and pass it onto Jett. Jett Smith, who had been kind, caring, and had known in his life when to say 'No'. Because not every prayer could or should be answered.

Some prayers were downright wicked and evil. Some were so utterly selfless, that Jett was moved to near tears. Romano watched him with a scowl, but a softened look in his eyes. There had been a time, when he too had felt the same.

Jett also had to cope with hearing billions of voices, in the whole spectrum of human emotion, ratting in his head constantly. The anger, the hate, and the violence was nearly too much. Yet, it was tempered by kindness, compassion, and general goodwill. It caused him to gasp aloud at his whole body morphed and changed to surge with the powers of God, even in an apprentice form.

"How long will I be like this?" He asked, in a daze, suddenly coming to understand everything and anything. Except that which was kept from him by the true God for the sake of learning.

"I will be with you, teaching you, for some 500 years."

Jett felt a wave a relief crash over him.

"That is good, a long time to learn."

Romano gave a barking laugh. His laughter caused the heavens to shake, but he continued to allow his mirth to pour through.

"Oh no, Jett, it is not long at all. Time has no meaning here. To you and I, we are aware of it, but there is no weight behind it." Romano said, and Jett could have sworn he called him a 'gullible bastard'.

But, Jett didn't want to think about that.

"Romano! Jett!" A lively voice called out brightly, and the pair of males turned toward the sudden pull of Death.

Jett was not afraid anymore. Death was only a messenger, a collector and protector of souls. That was what Amelia's role truly boiled down to.

Romano blinked down at her.

"Ah, the bat crazy death."

It at all possible, Amelia's smile grew wider.

"I see you remember me," she replied with a faint flush on her cheeks. Romano raised a brow in question, as Amelia nodded.

"Arthur is coming." She replied lazily.

"Probably still chasing after the Devil, that stupid bastard." Romano said with agitation, as he muttered under his breath.

Jett blinked, startled by the revelation, for he did not know what Romano chose to keep from him. Romano did not even bother to glance up as he went about answering the prayers of widows and orphans for safety and guidance.

"The current devil is a woman," Romano offered, knowing what Jett was silently asking, "and-"

"Artie's got the hots for Nihoko," Amelia snickered with amusement.

Romano's lips quirked as well.

"There is that."

Jett blinked, gazing between them.

"Wouldn't that be... forbidden?"

It was Amelia that shook her head. "Oh no, Death still brings all souls and does not judge them. As long as Arthur never takes a souls from where it is supposed to go, no rules are broken. Besides, being the middle, Death can pretty much pick a..."

Romano was watching her with honey-colored eyes. Amelia flushed.

"A what?"

Jett had the feeling she was going to say something else, but Amelia looked down and then back up with a subdued expression.

"Companion?"

"Much better, thank you." Romano said blithely.

"Anytime!" She replied happily.

"Could the same be true, for God?" Jett asked in curiosity, his eyes lingering on the way Amelia grinned at him and winked.

"You'd better not try a bloody thing," Arthur interrupted with a grousing tone as green eyes glared balefully at the apprentice of God.

"Oh, I don't know," Amelia said while raising her hand slightly, "I'd be curious what he would try."

Jett smiled at her then, a bit of roguish charm appeared around him and his robes began to glow softly.

"I think I like you," He commented in amusement.

"Feeling's mutual," she replied.

Romano groaned into his hands as he dropped his head into them. Arthur put his hood back on, growing several feet and dark mists swirled around him.

"Just you try it," Death hissed with irritation. He grabbed at Amelia's cloak, shoving her hood back on, despite her protests.

Jett thought that no matter how long he continued to fill the role of God, or even as the apprentice, would he ever see anything as unusual as a form of Death making a 'call me' motion.


End file.
